


Blue Tones

by SparksOfDesire



Series: The Color Scheme of Your Heart [3]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Accidental Kink Reveal, Adam Maitland is an actual saint, Alex Brightman is my Beetlejuice, Angst, Barbara Maitland is an actual angel, Beej lashes out because he can't deal with sadness, Beej's sad childhood, Beetlejuice Needs a Hug, Beetlejuice gets a hug, Beetlejuice has Mood Ring hair, Beetlejuice learns some valuable lessons about family, Beetlejuice still doesn't know Delia's real name, Blink and you'll miss it mentions of desctructive coping mechanisms, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Caretaker!Maitlands, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Delia and Barbara are best friends, Delia still nails life-coaching, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Juno's A+ parenting, Little Space, Little!Beetlejuice, Lydia and Beetlejuice are best friends, Lydia has big sister energy in this one, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of shame, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Self-Loathing, The Maitland's ghost powers, They actually talk about feelings for once, Trust, Vulnerability, beetlelands, musical canon, soft beetlejuice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparksOfDesire/pseuds/SparksOfDesire
Summary: Beetlejuice has a lot of feelings, the Maitlands are everyone's parents, and Charles Deetz just wants to solve his crossword puzzles.**So what if he...if …if he… if he wanted to be LITTLE, there he said it. His… Juno (not his Mom - not anymore) wasn’t here to tell him how wrong and backwards he was. It was only him and Adam, and Adam would never say something like that, because Adam wasn’t mean.Adam was nice and gentle and all those things that were good in the world.And Barbara was sunshine and laughter and everything that was good in the world, too.**Contains Non-Sexual Age-Play.Can be read as a stand-alone, but will make more sense when you read theother parts of the series.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz
Series: The Color Scheme of Your Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900939
Comments: 18
Kudos: 80





	1. Dark Navy

**Author's Note:**

> Countines right where the last work has left off.
> 
> Warning: Beej has some very sad thoughts about his childhood and briefly engages in some self-loathing (the Maitlands make it all better, though). Still, if this triggers you, maybe not read this one.

It took Adam no time to find him.

Despite all the bravado and unpredictability about him, Beetlejuice was a creature of habit at the end of the day. From the second when his arm had left his wife’s waist and he had whispered “I’ll take care of this,” in her ear, Adam had known he would find his lover curled up on himself on the roof, empty gaze directed to the stars (They’ve spent many nights in a similar fashion but for happier occasions, since the Maitlands had realized that they could be outside, as long as this outside was still immediately connected with the house).

Maybe he had been selfish, here. He still wasn’t very good with people- his mind a bit too fast, his demeanor a bit too awkward- and in pressure situations he sometimes lost his words in front of a crowd. Given, three people were hardly a crowd, but still. He didn’t even have the right words to explain their dynamic to himself, he doubted that he was able to explain it to the Deetz. Barbara was better in that regard. Unafraid. Her words never seemed to stutter into nothingness.

But, also, maybe, in some other regard, he hadn’t been selfish. He had felt Barbara’s nerves, like he often did. He was much calmer than his wife was. There were storms of anxiety and worry whirling around her head more often than he would have liked- and this was no exception. He knew how much Barbara had beaten herself up about not being what Beej might need.

As the demon was an emotional mirror sometimes, her anxiety and his… whatever negative emotion he was currently going through, would surely create an explosive, destructive force. And Beej could be an explosive, destructive force all in his own regard.

So, Adam approached slowly, cautiously. Although the demon obviously posted no threat to him (not anymore, at least), his emotional state was highly unstable, and every wrong move could lead to an eruption. They had been down that path before, with screaming, and throwing things, and letting the walls bleed. You know, the usual, when living with a being from literal hell.

The demon flinched when Adam was close enough to touch him, if he only reached out, and the tiny movement let Adam’s dead heart sink in his chest. Coming to understand the magnitude of Beetlejuice’s insecurities and self-loathing was like falling into a bottomless pit. Some days, all their treasured progress seemed almost miniscule compared to the beast they were trying to combat.

The ghost stared at his partner’s gray hair with frosted white tips, since the demon had his face buried against his knees. It was cold out, he saw it in the way his demon shivered and goosebumps erupted on his arms. Adam suddenly wished he had remembered to bring a blanket. He wasn’t producing body heat anymore, he wouldn’t be able to keep the demon warm in his embrace. He swallowed the sudden sadness bubbling up in his throat. There was a time for thoughts like that, and this was not that time, he told himself sternly.

So, he did all he could, which was absolutely nothing, except for sitting down near Beej in a respectable distance, but not enough to suggest that he didn’t want to be near him. These moods, more than anything, had to be sat out. Barbara wasn’t like that- sweet, caring, nervous Barbara was always bubbling up with words, eager to mend every wound with a conversation. Adam knew better, though. Sometimes, words- even meant well- could be painful, instead of soothing.

The wind was picking up and shuffling through Beetlejuice’s hair. The demon shivered again and looked up. There was a twinkle in his amber eyes that reminded Adam distinctively of a panicked animal. Fangs came out, digging into his lower lip- not just any animal, a predator. The bunny, not abandoned in the haste to get away, was clutched in a big hand- a hand that had tortured, tormented, _destroyed_ \- the sharp claw-like nails digging into the fabric of its belly. Some of the neon yellow nail polish was chipped.

Everything about him was inhuman, always, a near-constant reminder that Beetlejuice was a dangerous creature. But then… but then he just _wasn’t_. In many regards, he was so much more human than the Maitlands were. Although they resembled the human form, it was Beej who needed to sleep and to eat and to drink, it was Beej who sweated and froze…who bruised and bled and gained weight and tasted and smelled… it was Beej who could cry (out of all of these, this one struck Adam the most at this very moment and he wondered, with a sense of impending dread, if Beetlejuice would start crying. Not the over-the-top crying he had done when he was overwhelmed. But more like… a silent cry. A cry that wasn’t meant to be noticed. The thought stung.) On the outside, he might resemble a monster but… nobody knew better than Adam that this assessment couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Beetlejuice’s breathing- as redundant as theirs, but habits die hard, he supposed- was irregular and raspy, as if it was caught on something every second or third exhale. It snarled in his chest, an almost otherworldly sound. He was just looking at Adam and as he did, color slowly bled into his hair.

And Adam just watched, as red mingled with the gray, as blue washed out the white at the tips. It had a strange beauty to it, like an oil painting depicting a scene of suffering. His eyebrows arched together in a frown, that somehow made him look so much _younger_ than a century-old entity was supposed to look like. His skin- normally a sickly grey with the occasional patch of moss or purple bruising- was almost translucent in the moonlight.

“Adam-“ the sound of his own name in Beej’s voice- still foreign for his lover usually addressed them with a vast assortment of nicknames- in that tone he couldn’t quite place on the scale between a growl and a whisper; his name, not “Daddy”, a glaring signifier that whatever softness had lingered around Beetlejuice when they tucked him in had now been forced to the far back corner of his mind. Something in the ghost was disappointed. This would have been easier with his baby, not with his stubborn adult-counterpart.

“What are we doing?”

The question was quiet, not even directed at him. Wild eyes were darting all around him, but never settling directly on him, as if Beetlejuice couldn’t even bring himself to look at him any longer. Adam had learned pretty early into their relationship to not take these extreme reactions too personal. It was still hard, though.

The hand around the soft bunny tightened. “What the _fuck_ are we doing?!” And there it was, the anger in his voice rising to match the hair. The demon’s body uncurled itself, as if to signal he was leaving his defending stage and looking for conflict. The ghost knew that conflict came to him more naturally than any other reaction to a disbalance of his emotional state. But Adam knew that all his anger was- most of the time- just a deflection for the deep sadness underneath, something Beej didn’t come easy to understand.

Anger was familiar, anger was… safe, in an odd kind of way. Being angry was less vulnerable to admitting that you’re hurting. That you let others close enough to actually hurt you. There not being an actual action of hurt present was only complicating things further. It was the anticipation to be hurt- and the abstractness of the emotion made everything far more slippery.

“ _You_ guys with all your-your-your _niceness_ and your _affection_ (he spat the words as if they were resembling something vile to him) are messing with my head! I’m a _demon_ \- breathers dissolve into madness and terror when I’m near them and ghosts respect and fear me, for I am more powerful than your puny little brains could ever comprehend! And _you_ -“

“Do you want a hug?” Adam interrupted him, breaking his own principle to stay silent and observant. While he was a big fan of letting all the negative energy out, his demonic partner was working himself into a frenzy, as indicated by him starting to hover and glow, energy cackling around his robust form (A lesser man than Adam would have fainted at the impressive display of demonic power. But then again, a lesser man wouldn’t have entered into any sort of intimate relationship with a demon, so here they were); and once Beetlejuice was in a frenzy, it could take _hours_ to calm him down again.

Additionally, this direction wasn’t getting them anywhere closer to working out a) why Beetlejuice was upset enough to storm out when he saw the Deetz’ (although Adam could harbor a pretty good guess. It wasn’t a pleasant one) and b) solve this issue, so they could go back inside.

A displacement of blame was a familiar pattern in any Beej rant, and although in some ways it was better than his moping/self-loathing moods, it was no less destructive. For in Beej’s logic, someone had to be the scapegoat, and if it couldn’t be himself, because he was trying to proof a point, he latched onto the next best entity available. Naturally, the hug-option threw him off guard. It usually threw him off guard when Adam didn’t meet his anger with equal force- in fact, didn’t meet his anger at all.

Beetlejuice stared at Adam, his chest heaving, his hair ruby at the roots and navy at the ends. For in Beetlejuice’s logic, the only way how someone could not react to anger with anger was if said person wasn’t taking his emotions seriously

“Are you even listening to me?! _Fuck you_! _You_ are fucking me up because- because of your _stupid neurosis_ about being parents or something equally _lame_ -“

That one hit a little too close to home. They had attempted to open up to Beetlejuice about their regrets regarding their former life choices, but it had been a tiring process, mostly because most of their desires appeared very foreign to him. In the end, though, they had the feeling that he understood. Turned out, he had understood perfectly well, and was not hesitating to now use it to hurt him. Provoke. Violently testing the boundaries.

Judging by the way the demon’s body suddenly stiffened and his eyes flickered to Adam’s for the split of a second, he had noticed, too, that he was treating dangerously close to a line here.

Against popular belief, Beetlejuice didn’t enjoy hurting people. Not per se. Sure, he enjoyed the occasional fright fest (and if anyone was to mysteriously perish because of a heart-malfunction, it wasn’t his fault that the human body was constructed so faulty) or a good old-fashioned haunt. But. This was different. He knew because the Maitlands were different. They weren’t just any forgettable newly-deads they were his… his… they were _important_. And as Lydia taught him- after he suggested she should slap Deborah’s hellish vegan meatloaf around her ears the next time she made it- it was not cool to hurt the people who are important. And Lydia was always right, he was 100% convinced of that.

And Adam- stupid, boring, sexy, wonderful _Adam_ \- was now looking at him with that little disapproving wrinkle in his nose, and for a horrifying second, it opened up an endless void of a different kind of emotional purgatory; one where Adam and Barbara would finally come to their senses and _leave him_ , because why would anyone want to stay? His mother- No, _Juno_ \- had said… It unhinged something within him, something deep down; something incredible fragile and small. Why would anyone lo-

Bad train of thought.

Abort mission.

‘We’re angry, remember? Furious!’ the demon told himself, even as he felt the anger bleed out of him. It was like it was never really there in the first place. ‘We have been betrayed, because… because… Because the Maitlands are fucking lovely partners and not only understand every part of our fucked-up brain, but actively indulge in your laughable desires to be cared for on a deeper emotional level. Ha-ha, looser, well done for being the fucking asshole here.’

All because he was scared.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it?

Terrified.

Against popular belief, Beetlejuice didn’t deal very well with negative emotions directed his way, and the thought that the Deetz- the Deetz who were, if he had one of his good days and could admit he deserved this kind of thing- almost like a family to him, too- the thought that they could be disgusted by him (more than on an average level) filled him suddenly with a wild nausea. He absently mused if that was how shame felt like. He had never experienced it before.

“Baby-“ Adam’s voice was so warm and nice although Beej had just been awful to him and he couldn’t _stand it_.

“Stop. Just… stop.”

Now there was new hurt on Adam’s face and Beej suddenly fought the urge to cry. _Stupid_ useless body suddenly making him feel things.

He had been alright before he met them. He had been stone-cold and indifferent; and now he was… all wrong. Now he desired things that weren’t vile or mean - nice things, like Adam’s warm voice calling him ‘Baby’. Nice things, which he didn’t deserve. But Satan, he wanted them. _So bad_.

But, as he remembered the nightmare that got this whole shitshow going, he was like cancer, infesting their afterlives and throwing everything off-balance, forcing them to deal with him until his vile self infected every aspect of their existence; because he was selfish like that. A disgusting creature.

Fuck, he wanted that hug.

He wanted Da- _Adam_ ’s hug.

But he already said no. And then he had been mean, so now the offer probably wasn’t standing anymore.

“It’s going to be alright. There’s no need to be sad, Beej.”

“I’m not sad!” The demon spat in a mockery of his anger of just minutes ago. His hair betrayed him, though. The ghost eyed the dark navy strands, wishing his partner would let him in. He knew Beej didn’t mean to hurt him; although he was exceptionally good in hurting people. His bravado had left him over the span of some seconds, the blue taking over the rest of his head, and his floating coming to a halt when he dropped on the roof with a dull thud. He was still shivering. And clutching the bunny.

He truly gave a pitiful sight. Adam felt bad for his little guy (the longer they stayed on the roof, the surer Adam was that the demon wasn’t as big as he wanted to appear right now).

The ghost scooted closer, hoping that his nearness wouldn’t cause another outburst. Unfortunately, it was always a wildcard with Beetlejuice. Today, the demon allowed it, didn’t even make a comment when Adam tapped against his knuckles gently to make him release his death-grip on the bunny. His sharp nails combined with the force would tear the fragile material.

Beetlejuice noticed it too, horrified at the prospect of destroying something so dear to him. Like he always did. All he could do was destroy. Like a monster. There was a heaviness on his chest like a sandworm sat on it, crushing him under its weight. Adam’s fingers remained against his knuckles, massaging them with tiny circles. How, after all of this, after everything, the Maitlands were still so good to him, he would never understand. And here he was, always promising himself to be good for them in return and always fucking it up.

He couldn’t be a good partner for Adam and Barbara. He couldn’t be a good boy for Mommy and Daddy. He just… couldn’t. He didn’t even know what that meant, most of the time.

He stared at his big, dirty hands- hands that had injured and abused and destroyed- hating how disgusting they looked against the bunny’s soft belly; hating how disgusting he was next to the wholesome Maitlands.

 _‘It’s going to be alright’_. Really, the audacity of Adam sometimes.

“It’s not alright!” he growled at their hands and hated how fragile his voice sounded. “Have you seen their faces?!”

The finger stopped their gentle caress, and Beej didn’t need to look up to know the expression on Adam’s face. He had memorized every last detail about their wide range of expressions, like the pathetic loser he was. Right now, Adam would have the little ‘aha!’ face on, that he always made when some puzzle pieces slotted into place.

“No, I haven’t. Because I was only looking at you. You had me worried, you seemed pretty shaken by that nightmare, lovebug.”

‘ _I was._ ’ “Don’t call me that.”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“Good! ‘cause I hate it! I hate everything about this.”

That was a lie.

They both knew it.

He liked people calling him things other than his name. For there was a lot of weight behind his middle name, good _and_ bad. He enjoyed the different nicknames people around him came up for him (he had never been close enough to anyone so that they would want to give him a nickname before. At least, not a positive one).

Like Babs calling him “Bee” when she was trying to be cute while doing the dirty or that one time Chuck called him “Mr. Juice” like he was one of those Victorian gentlemen (or a pop-up store for juice)! Lawrence, not a big fan of that one, too much baggage connected with it. It had made his hair turn violently purple when Donna called him like that once and hasn’t been brought up ever since. (Why _they_ were being so nice to him, he still couldn’t possibly understand. But he’d make the most of it until they all came to their senses about him… Babs always said it was because all the abuse that happened to him messed with his head and he was seeing things differently than they really were but…. That was hard to believe). His favorite, though, was maybe (most definitely) lovebug. And Baby. Both were super special, ‘cause he knew they were only for him. The Maitlands called nobody else these things. Just him. Like he was important. Like he was someone who mattered.

And he liked the rest, too. The niceness and the affection. The everything.

Consequently, the lie stung more than he anticipated. It lacked all the instant satisfaction of a believably delivered lie. It only made him feel even more yucky inside, coating his tongue with a sour aftertaste.

But Adam just looked at him, with that stupid worried frown on his stupid handsome face. The demon felt instantly exposed under this gaze.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with being little, right? There’s nothing wrong in wanting to be cared for by the people who love you.”

Beej’s stomach flipped and then plummeted right into his knee pits.

_‘People who love you.’_

He had never been loved before. Because he was ugly, and disgusting, and a creep. He wasn’t good, and nice, and sweet. He wasn’t- he _couldn’t be_. Right. …. Right?

“You wouldn’t survive a day in Hell or the Netherworld with that attitude, Sugar.” Adam frowned at the fake aloof tone. It was a testament of Beej trying to resurrect the façade around himself.

“We’re not in the Netherworld right now. Or Hell. We’re right here. And here, I just want to make sure my little guy is alright.”

“But I’m a _demon_ ,” Beej protested, and his voice sounded so _ruined._ More ruined than usual. Different ruined, maybe.

“And I’m a ghost.” Adam sighed. “But I’m also Barbara’s husband. And Lydia’s ghost-dad. And your Daddy. (Beej sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of the word ‘Daddy’ and hastily turned his head so Adam wouldn’t catch the expression on his face.) We can be more than one thing, Beej. Being a demon is not mutually exclusive to being someone who I- _we_ \- care about.”

Beetlejuice didn’t really have a retort to that.

Silence settled among them, but only for a little while.

Beetlejuice watched the stars, and Adam watched Beetlejuice.

The demon was biting is lower lip and his eyes fitted anxiously between the different constellations. Adam still held his lover’s hand securely in his own, a chino-clad knee pumping against dark green plaid (the first time he had seen Beej’s choice of pajamas, it was hard to contain his excitement that his demonic lover very obviously chose his favorite pattern). A strand of Beej’s hair was pushed repeatedly into his eyes by the cold wind, and he shook his head like a dog to get it to stay.

Without a second thought, Adam smoothed it down, letting his hand linger against the dark blue. His hair wasn’t exactly soft by any standards, but it was distinctly less crunchy than it had been before Delia insisted on that body hygiene schedule. They had been told by the living inhabitants of the household that his stench had considerably improved as well. Although the demon made a grand scene every time his shower was staged to happen, he always complied despite breaking into hearty monologues about it. It was one of those little things where he showed that he cared although he was kind of crappy with people and emotions.

Beej always tried. And Beej could be unexpectedly sweet- even with the extra appendixes and raunchy comments and the drooling and the ridiculous thing he did where he pulled his top teeth over his bottom lip. What was not to love? (Maybe his taste in romantic partners drastically declined the longer he was part of ‘the whole being dead thing’, but Adam wouldn’t want it any other way.)

He pressed his palm against his demon’s temple gently, making him turn his head a little to face him.

The demon caught his eyes and inhaled audibly. The ghost leaned forward and gave him a little peck against his chapped lips. It was a bit more forward than they were with little Beetlejuice, but since his partner seemed to be flowing somewhere in an in-between state, Adam figured he’d appreciate the gesture. Physical contact usually helped to get him out of his head, rooted more firmly in the present than in his negative thoughts. Adam tried not to think too hard about all the reasons why Beetlejuice needed to be reminded that he, not only could be appreciated, but in fact _was_ appreciated by the whole Maitland/Deetz household. It only made him angry at the world and at himself.

Beej resisted the soft ministration for a second, before all tension left him and he crowded into Adam’s space, returning the kiss more insistently, almost desperate. Like he was pouring all the things he wasn’t able to say into this warm press of lips.

Matching the pace, the ghost wrapped his arms around the demon’s plump form, initiating the hug Beetlejuice had earlier denied himself. His soft belly rose and fell against Adam’s leaner stomach with every quick inhale and exhale. It was a grounding feeling. Familiar. Safe.

Sharp nails bit into his shoulder blades, but he barely acknowledged them, only squeezed Beej’s waist a little tighter. The demon shivered against him and pressed even closer, now practically wrapped around Adam, sitting in his lap. He was a comforting weight atop of the ghost’s thighs. They broke the kiss and Beej immediately pressed his face against Adam’s neck, scruff beard scratching against the skin above the collar.

“I don’t get it,” he murmured lowly. The ‘why you love me’ didn’t need to be voiced to be heard.

They’ve had this conversation many times before. Adam always gave the same answer: “I just do.”

Just like that, it was like a dam was broken.

The change was instantaneous, Adam could _feel_ the moment Beej let go. His hair switched from dark navy to a soft pastel blue; something they found out it would frequently do when he was feeling little, muting the tones in his hair to a lighter shade.

“Daddy?” And oh, Adam’s dead heart gave a jump. He was sure, it wasn’t just from the novelty of it- paired with _this_ tone, it would always be special to him. He just knew.

“Right here, lovebug,” he assured, pressing a kiss against Beej’s hair, and cradling the back of his head securely in his palm. He felt warmth against his skin from where the demon’s cheeks pressed against his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Whether it was for the rude comments earlier, or the lying, or still from a lingering shame about his desire to be taken care of, Adam didn’t know, and didn’t want to ask. Either way, they would be alright. It was far from the first time they’ve dealt with Beetlejuice’s deeply rooted insecurities, and probably far from the last. But as long as they had their moment of reckoning, after all the anger and frustration and hurt pride had been voiced, and the demon could admit what he really longed for. Adam would always be there, waiting patiently until that moment was there, always ready to catch him.

“I know, Baby. I know. I’m not mad.”

And if Adam felt his shirt grow damp by a little demon’s tears, he was kind enough not to mention it.


	2. Light Teal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot chocolate and hugs make everything better, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, again: Beej thinks about Juno's abusive parenting, has some moments of self-loathing, and self-harm is mentioned very briefly.

“So,” Charles started in a way that suggested to Barbara would have had a headache about it later, if she still were to get those. “is this a sex thing or do we need to be concerned?”

“Ehw, Dad! Gross!”

“Just checking.”

“Oh my God, I’m not even listening anymore,” Lydia whined.

“Alright, you two, that’s quite enough,” Delia scolded the pair and really, Barbara could have kissed her. The ghost’s mind was running several miles per hour, torn between following her men to the roof and staying here in the hopes the ground would just swallow her whole.

They hadn’t talked about this.

This possibility of the Deetz just _finding it out_. But now, the metaphorical cat was already out of the bag, and denying it would be lying, and Barbara strongly opposed any lies whatsoever and was a firm advocatress of the household’s open communication policy. So, anything other than honesty was already off the table. It was a matter of principles, she told herself, even as the memory of Beej _begging_ them to not tell anyone bullied itself to the forefront of her mind.

Alright.

See.

She just… just couldn’t do that.

Their trust was a fragile, frayed thing only just solidifying and this- no. Beetlejuice would _never_ forgive her.

“I-“ Barbara started and the cleared her throat, in an attempt to stall for time. She looked at them one by one- grouchy but kind-hearted Charles, quirky but sweet-tempered Delia, eccentric but wonderful Lydia- her strange and unusual and brilliant family.

Her nerves softened around the edges, as she exhaled in the pattern Delia had shown her, when she confined in the other woman that she had been prone to fits of nervous anxiety during her lifetime. The roaring in her mind calmed down to a gentle breeze.

She’s got this.

And Adam was right above her, being there for their feisty third.

“I can’t really tell you, not without Beej’s permission. I’m sorry.”

Charles furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to start his patented “matters concerning all ghostly and demonic shenanigans (safe bedroom activities) need to be discussed with the living inhabitants of the household” speech, Barbara beat him to it: “It’s nothing… nefarious or bad, I promise.” _‘Quite the opposite, actually.’_ “Just… personal.”

Now Lydia furrowed her brows (and looked like the spitting image of her father for a second) at the possibility that there was anything (safe bedroom activities) that her BFFFF forever hadn’t told her before. Really, she even was the driving force behind the whole relationship with the Maitland couple, as she had insistently pushed Beej towards them and patiently analyzed any feelings, which he didn’t understand with him (they even drew a _diagram_ , okay, she was invested in that undead idiot). The thought that there could be something that was too… personal for BJ to share it with her made her feel… strangely jittery inside. They told each other _everything_ (really, even the gross and embarrassing stuff- like how cruel a childhood in Hell could be or how she still woke up in the middle of the night and for the split second before regaining full consciousness felt the desire to check on her dying mom).

And then the look on BJ’s face right before he had vanished (to the roof, everybody knew, he was predictable like that) … he had never looked at her like that. Not even when she had stabbe- woah, let’s not go there.

It all really rubbed her the wrong way.

The adult couple seemed to be pleased enough with this explanation and bid their goodnights soon after (when Delia hugged her, though, she whispered in her ear that if she ever needed to talk about this without naming it, they would find a way; which made Barbara hug her a little bit tighter), but Lydia stuck around. As soon as the attic door closed behind Delia and Charles, she spoke.

“Ghost-mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“BJ doesn’t keep secrets from me.” Her tone was defiant accusing almost, but the insecurity shone behind her words. Barbara suppressed a smile. Lydia and Beetlejuice really were two peas in a pot, it was no wonder they were an indestructible force of chaos and mischief when they were together.

Barbara beckoned her to the sofa to have a seat next to her. Lydia crossed her arms in front of her chest in the perfect picture of teenage rebellion, but still took up the offer. And if she subconsciously leaned closer to her ghost-mom, none of them would point it out. Lydia worked like that, a heart of gold carefully tugged away under goth-y layers of sass and snark.

Barbara studied her profile- the tightly clenched jaw, the stubborn wrinkle in her nose, the slight pout- and was overcome by a wave of motherly affection. As much as Beej was her infuriatingly stubborn boyfriend and even more stubborn little, Lydia was her infuriatingly stubborn daughter.

Gently, Barbara brushed a stray curl from Lydia’s messy bob behind her ear, so she could get a better look at her face. The teen scoffed a little, but let it happen.

“It’s not that he doesn’t want you to know. It’s just something that he’s currently coming to terms with himself and he’s… anxious about the whole thing.”

“But he told _you_.”

“Not very willingly, believe me. You know how he is.”

Lydia huffed in agreement. _Of course_ , she knew. She spent almost every waken moment not stuck in school with the quirky demon. Up to this point, she was fairly certain, she had seen every SFW ‘how Beetlejuice could be’.

Guess that wasn’t the case.

It shouldn’t hurt her. He was their boyfriend, after all, naturally they were all lovey-dovey and kept lovey-dovey secrets. It’s not that she wants in on anything just… was he really anxious to tell _her_ , of all people? After everything they’ve dealt with together? After everything _she_ told _him_? There was stuff she had never told anyone else and… and it was just…

“Well.” ‘ _Ask him why he doesn’t trust me_.’ “Then _tell him_ , that he’s super lame for keeping stuff from me. Like seriously loosing coolness-points for that.”

Barbara let out a fond sigh.

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

The teenager stubbornly stared ahead, but the minimal quirk of her eyebrow betrayed her. “Tell him-“ she started with snarky bravado but then bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “tell him that if he’s ready, I’ll be there.” She finished in a softer tone.

She wanted to be mean and rebellious but… wouldn’t be any use to get the wrong message across, right?

And oh, would Barbara please stop looking at her like that? It hadn’t been that…nice or- God forbid- sweet or anything, no need to beam at her like…like…

The ghost threw her arm around her stepdaughter and pulled her into a side hug. Lydia would never admit it, but she was a very sweet and thoughtful girl, if she set her heart to it. Still strange and unusual, naturally, but also sweet.

The teenager closed her eyes as she let her ghost-mom’s presence calm her. Barbara and Adam were always cool to the touch but they radiated … something (aura, Delia called it) that was warm like a mug of tea on a rainy day or like the sunlight through their dusty attic windows.

Something like… home.

It was a feeling she remembered well, from the time her real mom had been alive.

“You’re a good friend, Lydia.”

“Well, make sure he knows that,” she murmured, drawing her legs up on the sofa, to cuddle closer to Barbara.

She even smiled when she felt Barbara’s chest rise and fall from her completely unnecessary breathing.

“He knows. I’m sure.”

**

“Daddy?” Adam turned his head towards the demon-shaped blanket lump that was firmly attached to his back as he was stirring the pot with the hot chocolate.

After Beej had finished his hearty cry on the roof, Adam had coaxed him to go back inside, for there was no way a dead body could shield a shivering little demon against the cold evening wind. Said demon, now fully slipped into a younger headspace, had been bribed severely with the promise of a sweet treat (“Can I have mini marshmallows?” “Sure.” “What about crickets?” “…. Depends if we have them in the pantry.”) and Adam had sent Barbara a telepathic heads up to see if the coast was clear. He had gotten the reply immediately that everything was fine, that she loved them both very much, and that every Deetz was in their bed, safe for Lydia, but she was working on that. Adam had smiled to himself. In many ways, Beetlejuice and Lydia were very very similar.

This is how a ghost and a demon found themselves in the empty Deetz’ kitchen, the ghost preparing hot chocolate and the demon leaning heavily against the ghost- with his long arms wrapped tightly around the other man’s waist and his round belly pressing against Adam’s spine. Beetlejuice started to warm up almost immediately when they were out of the wind (on a normal day, he radiated the heat of a small sun that even _they_ could feel, but that had probably to do with the fact that he was undead, like them) and now, cocooned in Delia’s tackiest (Beej’s verdict, not his) knitted blanket, it was like having a furnace attached to his back.

Considering that he normally couldn’t feel any temperature anymore, it made a nice change. And he was very happy about the prospect of actually spending quality time with little Beej, for the rest of the night, preferably. His lover was still exhausted- now even more after the tiring emotional rollercoaster- and Adam had the strong desire to… well, to wrap him up in blankets and spoil him rotten.

As far as he was concerned, they all deserved it. Sure, he was nervous. He had never actually gotten to be Daddy longer than for a few minutes at a time, an hour at most. And never when Barbara wasn’t there. So, this was completely unchartered territory, all things considered.

But sometimes… sometimes things just felt _right_. Like he had felt the first time Barbara had kissed him or the first time Lydia had called him ghost-dad. Some things were just _meant to be_.

“Yes?” he hummed, feeling content with himself and the universe. Barbara just told him telepathically that she wouldn’t be long, and he could hardly wait to interact with them both.

Barbara was… wonderful when Beej was little. Of course, she was always wonderful but in these few moments they had shared with their little demon had made him fall even more in love with her. She radiated sunshine and-

“Are you _sure_ they won’t mind? It’s weird…” Adam shook his head a little chastened, having allowed himself to space out to think about his wife instead of paying proper attention to his Beej. He tried to make up for it with the warmth he let seep into his voice.

“Hm, let’s see. The Deetz are living happily with their residual _ghost_ couple and a _demon_ straight from hell and have a _sandworm_ in the basement. I’m pretty sure, ‘weird’ is no longer the benchmark in this household.”

He poked Beej in his side playfully, hoping to make him cheer up and maybe get a few of those soft giggles out of him. The demon gave him a look that very clearly stated that Adam’s sillies were not welcome in this very serious conversation. The fact that he had a woolen blanket in bright yellow wrapped around his entire being didn’t exactly radiate authority, though. The ghost turned off the stove and turned around to give Beej a kiss on the nose. The demon went cross-eyed to see it happen.

“But Lydia…”

“What about Lydia?”

“Won’t she…. Won’t she think I’m a pathetic looser? What if she doesn’t want to be my BFFFF forever anymore?” Which- yeah- worst case scenario. Just thinking about it was enough to make his belly whoosh uncomfortably. They would have to change the merchandise and everything.

“You know Lydia’s better than that. And don’t say such things about yourself. They’re cruel and untrue.”

_‘They’re true, that’s why cruel is exactly what I deserve._ ’ The harshness of his own self-perception slapped him in the face, enough to pull him out of his headspace a bit. It had been different, moments ago. When his brain had gone all fuzzy and soft. When he was- _Geez_ \- when he was little.

He still didn’t like that word. He didn’t like labels, they made everything so… clear… and final. He preferred vague and chaotic. It was easier to play stuff down if there wasn’t a word for it. But now that there was, everything was so overwhelmingly _real_ and… and that was… a lot.

Whenever he had gotten these… _urges_ before, he had just tampered them down, as far as they would go, until they were no longer trying to push to the surface. He would press his nails into his palms or bite at his knuckles; and when his thick black blood would ooze out, it usually did the trick to sober him right back up.

To want this, you see, was wrong. Not in a morally sense (he wouldn’t know anything about that), but in a relation to his essence. Demons were… larger than life and scary and … not _weak_. He had told himself, sternly, that this was a big no-no, that he would never let Barbara or Adam see it, because- seriously, a century old creature acting like a little kid? He had not even acted like a kid when he was an actual kid (it hadn’t been allowed).

That was the line. A bold, big, black line. It was disgusting and wrong and all these other adjectives Juno had so inherently connected with his character, with his entire existence.

But Babs and Adam and Lyds and _everyone_ had said that Juno was a liar, that these things weren’t true and in a moment of inattentiveness, he had let it slip. The things that he had thought about late at night when he refused to sleep. All these… weird…and soft things.

Having a family- a real one. Having… people who cared for him, even if he was being difficult or silly or…or…

Being allowed to give himself over, completely, to someone else. No control, just… fuzzy warmth and Mommy and Daddy. Believing that it was _alright_ to feel this, that it was alright to trust anyone other than himself.

And now they were _here_ and everything was good- everything was better than good even, everything was _great_ but still, there was this overwhelming sense of _not being enough_ \- because when had he ever been enough for anyone? And he was trying so hard, too, it just… whenever something went great he would fuck it up somehow and then, everything went awry and to shit because…because he destroyed great things.

That was in his essence, too. He wasn’t meant to cause them and he wasn’t meant to have them- he was meant to destroy them (he could still hear the cadence of Juno’s voice whenever she had said that. She had said it a lot).

These thoughts clouded his brain and some more of the fuzziness left. Instead, there was a heaviness settling about him- the same heaviness he always felt when he had some serious thoughts about all his issues and what caused them. He fought the urge to bite his lip until it bled, ‘cause he knew that Adam didn’t like it when he hurt himself (Juno had never cared).

_‘You’re never paying attention, Lawrence. Why do you choose to be so difficult?’_

(He had been hurt. He had been younger, and the other demons had thrown gleaming coals at him. One had burned right through his arm. And it had _hurt_ , and he had wanted to cry but he was being difficult already and crying was considered very ill behavior in Juno’s eyes).

_‘I’m sorry, Mom.’_

_‘You should be.’_

(So he had left cradling his ruined arm and tried to cure pain with more pain, because- for the longest time- that was the only way he knew how to).

Beej’s hand crept to his right arm, gripping the fabric of the blanket over the spot where he knew a jagged, burgundy-red scar spanned over the circumference of his forearm. He dug his claws in between the soft, yellow meshing until he could feel the bumpy texture of the poorly healed wound.

As if he knew (and somehow, Adam always seemed to know these things), the ghost cupped his face, stroking his thumbs over his dry lips (Beej tried not to think about piercing them with his fangs. Loosened his grip over his burn scar. It no longer felt right. Now he knew that there was another way). The gentle touch eased the vice painfully tightening around Beej’s ribcage. He slumped forward a little from the force of it.

“Lost you for a moment, there.”

“…sorry.” Beej nestled closer to Adam, eager to return to that place in his mind where it was alright to be a little emotional, because in that place, there was nothing that couldn’t be solved with a hug and hot chocolate. A place where Juno’s voice in his head could be quieted to a whisper, until he could ban her toxic, vile presence from his consciousness.

“You don’t… you don’t have to apologize for that. It’s been an eventful night, hm?”

Now, see, Beej wasn’t dumb. He was an idiot, but even he knew what Adam tried to do. And it worked, so _sue him_ for not fighting it. _So what_ if he...if …if he… if he wanted to be LITTLE, there he said it (well, thought), no regrets, no taking-backsis. His… Juno (not his Mom - not anymore) wasn’t here to tell him how wrong and backwards he was. It was only him and Adam, and Adam would never say something like that, because Adam wasn’t mean.

_‘We’re not in the Netherworld right now. Or hell. We’re right here.’_

Adam was nice and gentle and all those things that were _good_ in the world.

“There are my two favorite guys.”

And Barbara was sunshine and laughter and everything that was good in the world, too. Barbara, who had watched them from the doorframe with a fond smile, whose laugh sounded like little bells, when Beetlejuice reached for her.

The ghost let herself be pulled in for a hug, Beej only letting go of Adam to hold Barbara close. Adam petted his head and went back to prepare the hot chocolate. With marshmallows _and_ crickets, because apparently Delia was the nicest human to ever exist, including Beej’s special tastes to her grocery list. That, or she was tired of him raiding her delicate outdoor garden for snacks. Either way, there were insects in the pantry now, like a glaring signifier that Beetlejuice had become an established and appreciated resident of the Deetz/Maitland household.

“Mommy,” the demon mumbled against her hair, which was soft and smelled like flowers and had the color of honey and tickled against his nose. She must have helped Delia with her indoor garden this morning (Ghosts, along with their own sensory abilities, lost their smell since they were essentially just… well… essences. Naturally, other smells clung to them easily. That is why Barbara often smelled of flowers and pancakes, and Adam of sawdust and paint).

Beetlejuice closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into this place where nothing else mattered but them; and where the world was alright as long as they were there.

“Beej, Baby,” Barbara returned the greeting, her smile growing ten sizes. She was feeling calm and confident about the way she had handled the Deetz today; and just now she had had a lovely time with Lydia, which did wonders for her motherly self-esteem.

So she let herself have this, holding the love of her afterlife close to her unbeating heart. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing his nose against her pale throat, where her pulse would have been if she was still alive.

Maybe it was her confidence, maybe it was something about this day that had gone so spectacularly unexpected, that she felt bold enough to try out some of her ghost powers (“Practical effects,” Beej always called them with that special twinkle in his eyes). With the blink of her eyes, she had teleported them both onto the couch. It knocked them properly off-balance and it had only been like several inches, but she still considered it a win.

Judging by the way the demon in her arms hummed in appreciation while he snuggled against her lap, face buried against the soft swell of her stomach, he agreed. (They had been practicing their ghost powers. Beetlejuice was a pretty bad teacher and they were terrible students, but far and in between there were improvements).

She combed through her demon’s hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear while Adam put the finishing touches on the hot chocolate. She twirled one strand around her ring finger to inspect its tone. It was light- like it tended to be when he was feeling little- but its color was shifting between blue and green. A teal, if she had to settle for anything.

“How are you feeling?”

The demon shrugged (as far as she could tell, and it was kind of hard to tell because he was wrapped around her so tightly).

“’dunno,” he croaked against the fabric of her dress, a little helplessly.

That seemed about right.

“Color?” he asked, after a beat of silence.

“Something between blue and green.”

“…sorry.”

Barbara frowned, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for. For not being able to identify his emotions? For not feeling distinctly happy just because they were around? Both seemed like possible explanations in Beetlejuice logic. Sometimes, his default reaction just seemed to assume he did something worth an apology. Barbara’s stomach churned uncomfortably at the notion.

“That’s alright. Today surely was a little overwhelming.”

She felt a vague nod against her stomach.

“How did they take it?” Adam stage-whispered in her direction, as he set the steaming mug on the coffee table in front of to them and took up a seat to Beej’s left, lifting his legs and letting them rest over his own lap. Beej’s mouth watered at the smell (he didn’t have dinner, and his stomach had gone all rumbly), but the question still made him a little nauseated. He silently debated to vanish his ears- oh, and would they mind if he was reaching for his bunny, which sat perched up on the armrest of the couch?- so he wouldn’t have to hear the answer-

“I didn’t tell them.”

His head shot up from his hiding spot so fast that he almost full-on headbutted Barbara. “ _What_? Why?”

The ghosts flinched from the sudden increase in volume. Teaching Beetlejuice the meaning of ‘indoor voice’ was and would forever remain their ultimate boss battle.

“Because you asked me not to.” He just stared at her, blinking owlishly, like somebody had hit his reset button.

Okay.

He looked between them, the hazy fog in his mind momentarily forgotten.

Because…

Okay.

“But, _why_? That’s not a reason!”

“Of course, it is a reason. You didn’t want it, so I didn’t do it.”

Beej resisted the urge to exclaim ‘that never stopped anyone before!’, because, even though he was shit with social cues, even he could tell that would sort of kill the mood right now.

Okay.

WHAT?

That… that was a thing now? People keeping promises _to him_? They had house rules, alright (because, yeah, breathers and Maitlands just were lame like that) but until… until now he had simply considered them as ‘Rules Beej must follow or else he’ll be kicked out’. It had never in a million years occurred to him, that they were under the obligation to follow them, too.

Because, like, they owed him nothing and he owed them everything- and he didn’t deserve them and should be worshipping the ground on which they were occasionally walking on and now Babs was telling him that he had a right to be respected on the same level like anyone else in the house?!

Was that… was that what this ‘unconditional love’ craze was all about? _Nothing_ in his whole existence had ever been unconditional. Everyone was out for something, right?

…. Right?

Adam offered him a crooked smile and laid his hand on his thigh (it was a comforting weight through the blanket). Barbara quirked a playful eyebrow, like she was waiting for him to crack a joke, like he always did when there was tension in the room.

They were…. Nice. These boring, wholesome dorks. They were really nice and they knew him so well and they… _still_ were nice to him. Something big and complicated welled up in Beetlejuice’s chest.

Maybe _they_ weren’t out for anything at all. Maybe that’s just… how it could be, when someone loved you. _Actually_ loved you.

He’s always had… trouble with the concept but… slowly… he was beginning to understand. What it meant to be their demonic third. Their lovebug. _Theirs_.

“Are you okay?” Barbara whispered.

Instead of responding verbally, he dashed forward and peppered her whole face in feather-light kisses. She shrieked and let out a string of high giggles, which sounded like music to Beetlejuice’s ears. He would have to reconsider the whole ‘That Beautiful Sound’ number.

**

The next morning two ghosts perched up at the breakfast bar, looking like the cats who just got the cream. Lydia, never a morning person, vaguely scolded in their direction, before burying her face in a bowl of fruit loops. Charles was invested in the crossword section of the morning newspaper, and Delia idly stirred a pot with something that vaguely resembled porridge.

Adam took Barbara’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles, earning himself a bright smile. He then closed his arms around her waist and pulled, until she was dragged from her stool to his, so he could nuzzle her neck. They were both still feeling playful from this morning’s… events. While Beej had fallen asleep little, he woke up refreshed and nightmare-free in a big headspace and went on to thoroughly… declare his love for them in the most physical sense. Adam’s hair still was disheveled from where Beej had grabbed it, when he-

“ _Guys_ , I’m eating here.”

Before either of them could utter an apology, in a grand gesture (as it were, there were only grand gestures as far as Beetlejuice was concerned), the one and only ghost with the most appeared in a cloud of green smoke, ominously floating a few inches off the ground (Barbara thought he only did that to appear taller and more intimidating than he actually was, but she kept that opinion to herself). His hair wouldn’t settle on one color and instead flashed wildly between several different tones, which was more than just mildly concerning.

They had talked about the… issue briefly yesterday, when Beej was soft and mollified and sandwiched securely between them, with Bunny (because ‘Bunny’ was an appropriate name for a bunny) pressed against his stomach. They talked about how secrets could lead to miscommunication and how miscommunication fractured the trust in a family. They talked about how it was important to be honest. Beej had listened attentively (like these were actually foreign concepts to him), but Barbara had doubted he would even remember by morning.

Yet. Here they were.

“Okay, losers, listen up- I’m only gonna say this ONCE and if you don’t catch it, that ain’t my problem. Re-read this chapter, for all I care, but no reprises, this is a one-time-only exclusive feature.”

Oh boy, _here they were_.

Adam discreetly stifled a chuckle in his palm. Charles frowned over the edge of his newspaper, looking already 110% done with this day, even if it was barely 9 am. Lydia quirked an eyebrow at him, but seemed much more awake now. Delia turned, leaving her porridge unattended for the time being, and focused her attention not on Beetlejuice, but Barbara instead. The two women shared a tiny smile.

There was a big inhale that was clearly him just stalling for time and then, in a rush of jumbled words that, also, just vaguely resembled sentences:

“So, the CliffNotes version is, that my childhood SUCKED BALLS and existing is HARD and sometimes I need a BREAK and then-then-then my head gets all- _woosh_ \- and then these two weirdos over there take care of me- because, have I mentioned how HARD it is to be a responsible demon-adult? It’s like next level of hardness and- ehyo, insert dick joke here, am I right? Sorry, moving on. Where was I? Oh yeah. So, TMI-time, I sometimes feel like a kid and the Maitlands are fucking lovely to me. You should see- you know how lovely they are? 10/10 would age-play with again. Anyway, I’m babbling, is it hot in here? Must be that new sexy dressing gown you got there, Chuckle-Bucket, gets me going real good-“ (he paused a moment to throw some finger-guns in Charles’ direction, who then looked about 500% more done with this day)

“I did prepare a dance number for this, but y’know what? Not feeling it right now, soooo… All follow-up questions go to the Maitlands because I will literarily rip out my tongue before I ever address this again.”

He panted and wiped some of the foam that had gathered in the corners of his mouth. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, eyes darting between his little family. He barely gave them two seconds to process the new information, before he barked: “Can somebody please say something? Getting kinda nervous over here.”

Delia sensed her moment and took it.

“Oh, Beej, how wonderful! I’m sure I can speak for the whole family when I say-“ Hey. What was that smell?

“Oh God, my porridge! Beej- happy for you, darling, let’s have a chat sometime, thumbs up for healthy coping mechanisms, I have a few crystals, which- oh shoot, these oats are burned!”

Well. Sorta took it. Life-coaching, still nailing it?

Beetlejuice just stood (well, floated) there, his mouth hanging so wide open that it seemed his jaw had dislocated itself (maybe it had, he could never be too sure).

“WOW, okay. I need to process this. Debby, I always knew you were the true MVP of this production,” he blew her a kiss and was gone.

For some minutes, nobody said a thing (except for Delia softly swearing about oats).

Then, very quietly: “Do you think he even knows my real name?”

Barbara couldn’t help it, she just burst out laughing. In no time, the rest of the family followed. Well. That went better than expected. Leaning against Adam’s chest, Barbara watched Lydia sneak out of the room quietly, undoubtedly set on following the demon.

She smiled to herself.

Better than expected, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS for reading! The next work will focus on the relationship between Little!Beej and BigSister!Lydia , so get excited for that ;D
> 
> Meanwhile, leave some kudos and a comment, they always make my day <3


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